


there's still a while to go

by bluelongan



Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: M/M, No Beta, Possibly Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-29
Updated: 2020-01-29
Packaged: 2021-02-24 18:02:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22462219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluelongan/pseuds/bluelongan
Summary: Q watched the laboured rise and fall of James’s chest, the only movement that reminded the young man of the slow passing of time.
Relationships: James Bond/Q
Comments: 2
Kudos: 43





	there's still a while to go

A sharp ringing jerked him out of his concentration and he the prototype slipped from his hands. Q winced when he heard the sound of a hundred thousand dollars hitting the floor, but immediately turned his attention to his computer to check for the source of the distress call.

His blood ran cold. The call was made by double-oh seven, and it was the first time he had ever done so. Usually it was the other way round, with them desperately trying to reach him and Bond refusing to respond. But he was alive and conscious, deliberately avoiding contact with them.

The last time Q checked his location, he was still in the safe house, planning for his next move. Now, the small dot was rapidly moving on the screen in the dense, large forest. He was most likely on the run and being hunted by armed men, if the safehouse had been compromised.

Q anxiously waited for a response from Bond. Explosions and shootouts were nothing to the experienced agent, so something must have been gone really wrong, wrong enough for Bond to set his ego aside and reach out for help. 

But a reply never came, and the dot slowed before coming to a stop. Thank god for the smart blood technology — or thank god they managed to force James to take it. After hurriedly making the arrangements for extraction, he called Mallory.

.

They fished him out of a small brook, hidden among the vegetation that hindered their efforts. The bodies of his attackers were strewn around him, along with guns of all sorts and smouldering motorcycles. 

Based on the pictures the extraction team sent, his body had taken quite a beating, multiple lacerations and bullet wounds on his limbs. But it was the internal injuries, or hopefully the lack of, that Q was more concerned about. James remained unconscious throughout the entire journey to Medical.

After a few painful hours, the surgeons left the operating theater to speak to them. It was serious, to say the least. Double-oh seven had taken quite a few hard knocks before, but this time they weren't sure if he would recover, much less regain consciousness. Damage to the spine, third degree burns, punctured organs, possible brain hemorrhage. If he hadn't called, he was most likely going to be dead within a matter of hours.

Those words meant nothing to Q and he listened without fully comprehending the extent of James's injuries, fiddling with the watch he was working on. He stifled a snort when he compared his behaviour to the first stage of grief — denial. Mallory's usual grim expression showed no sign of emotion. A true professional.

He thought the worst part of it all — was when everyone gathered around the bed in silence, hoping and waiting for something to happen. They stared helplessly at James and had hushed conversations with one another, about how it happened, what could have been done, and what had to be done. 

More importantly, how they were going to _replace_ double-oh seven. Despite what Q felt, the earth hadn't stopped revolving around the sun. Terrorists were still on their merry way to wreak havoc on the world.

Numerous machines stood guard at the sides of the bed, tubes and drips snaked around his battered body, pillows propping him up to be the forced recipient of sympathetic gazes and impatient frowns. The air of invincibility that seemed to cloak James had disappeared. Vulnerability did not fit him at all.

They asked for someone to keep an eye on him, since James was unparalleled when it came to escaping Medical and bypassing any security they had. Q volunteered and won the place easily with no competition. R temporarily filled in the role of quartermaster, smoothly taking over with her sharp eye for detail and adaptability. Q made a mental note to recommend her to M as his successor.

James wouldn't hesitate to use a modicum of violence to stop anyone, even allies who tried to keep him from leaving, but Q knew he wouldn't lay a finger on him. Q doesn't know if that's good or bad, given the (regrettable) lack of any advances from James.

The nurses and doctors went in and out, the lights on the machines flickered on and off, the sun rose and set. Q watched the laboured rise and fall of James’s chest, the only movement that reminded the young man of the slow passing of time. 

He thought of what he was going to do, what he was going to say, and what he was going to promise. When that nightmare ended and that bastard came back from the dead like he always did _(even better than Lazarus himself)_ , Q knew he had to act. Rejection and embarrassment was never a good combination, but it was far easier to bear than uncertainty for the rest of his life. 

They told him to leave and take a break, and Q did, only for the sake of his lonely cats. 

His phone rang and he picked it up, with one cat sleeping peacefully beside him and the other kneading the blanket on his lap. Tanner was on the line.

When he hung up, Q called a cab. He stood up and gently coaxed the cat off his lap and got dressed. Making sure his cats had enough food and water, he left the house.

In the cab headed to MI6, he willed himself not to cry.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading! kudos and comments are appreciated :)


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